


when dawn comes to find us

by dotdotmoon



Category: EXO (Band), Z.Tao (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Time Travel, implied post-apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotdotmoon/pseuds/dotdotmoon
Summary: Jongin didn't ask, but Zitao sets out to find answers.
Relationships: Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao/Kim Jongin | Kai
Kudos: 9
Collections: Challenge #4 — Into the Future





	when dawn comes to find us

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from exo's _forever_
> 
> additional content warnings:  
> \- the topic of mortality is addressed (no character death!)  
> \- emetophobia (the scene is non-graphic)  
> \- mentioned depression

Zitao trusts and loves Junmyeon without question, knows he's loved back—and worried about. That's why he hands Kyungsoo the envelope with his will, his savings, most important documents, the letters to friends he writes anew every time.

Kyungsoo doesn't ask. A nod and a fleeting touch to Zitao's arm say enough.

Even more than that, Zitao appreciates the act he puts up to mask his concern. He never tells any of them where he goes, always burdens them with these possibly final goodbyes—but he asks. Kyungsoo agreed through text earlier, told him to hurry, he had stew on the stove to tend to.

He gives Kyungsoo a smile, wobbly as it is with the tension building before he digs into his power, checks his watch again. "Shouldn't take more than ten minutes," he says. Zitao's learned not to jump in places that are but a mere blip in time. He'll need five minutes to walk to the temple, three if he hurries.

"Stay for dinner?" Kyungsoo asks as he walks Zitao to the door, his hand touched to Zitao's elbow, only letting go once Zitao agrees.

"Love you!" Zitao yells over his shoulder before Kyungsoo can close the door, and the answer is lost in the noise of his haste to return quickly.

His measured steps pick up speed, and he's running before he knows it, heartbeat quickening as he runs uphill, dampening the nervousness. It's the longest jump he's attempted. His resolve doesn't fray, held together by the image of Jongin sitting in the bathtub in his quiet shame as Zitao scrubbed him down earlier, washing a week's grime off him. Jongin still smiling up at him with closed eyes as he rinsed out the shampoo, cleaned his face with a sponge.

He rounds the temple, finds the spot with the little dent in the wall, stands an arm’s length away as he reaches for the faint memory of a future years away. Thinks of the future of this presence as he feels his entire being stretching for sometime else, thinks of a bowl of Kyungsoo's stew, still hot enough to burn his mouth, of Junmyeon's hand in his this morning, of Jongin's shriek when he tickled him, the wet skin of Jongin's face under his lips as he apologised. He feels like he's splintering into mist, soaking into the ground, losing his hold on himself when a new world rushes at him, collides into him.

Zitao comes to leaning against the cool wall. Head spinning, he has to blink the old presence away, blink at the light rain settling on the skin of his hands, his face like a greeting. Zitao forces himself to walk, fingertips against the temple wall, not far, deep enough into uncertainty until his mind catches up, until he registers the lush green surrounding him as buildings overgrown, as streets missing, as a city wild and blooming, smelling of sunlight and wet leaves instead of smog and waste.

Briefly, he thinks he's dreaming as he looks over the hills doused in fog, as he hears nothing but the dense veil of insect pandemonium. His stomach turns when fear rises in his body. Zitao's heard stories of travellers getting lost in parallel universes, never finding their way back. It's Jongin's hanbok he's wearing, timeless enough to not draw attention, that's fluttering around his legs and grounds him in hope, forces him to recall his purpose here. With a hand over his heart, he pulls at the memory, picks at its fabric in search of Jongin. It's tedious work, and the hanbok begins to feel heavy as he moves under a tree when the drizzle changes to a downpour. Jongin's presence is a mere glint as he digs deeper and deeper, then a low light, a distant star. He traces it with his whole being until he's close enough and he's bathed in Jongin's light. It's only then that he realises what's missing.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Zitao makes it back to Kyungsoo's in time for the stew not to burn his tongue anymore. It’s sitting in a bowl on the thick envelope he gave Kyungsoo earlier, and he expects Kyungsoo's unbothered laugh at his complaint about the small ring of broth on it when he lifts it off.

"It went well?" Kyungsoo asks carefully when they're both halfway through their bowls.

Zitao pointedly meets his eyes, speaks around the spoon in his mouth. "Of course," he says. The stew in his belly that tamped down the aftereffects of travelling turns heavier by the second. He decides against lying, sighs, dips the spoon into the bowl. "I visited Jongin," he tells Kyungsoo. "He was better. A lot better."

Kyungsoo nods. "That's not everything," he observes, and it's enough of a reminder to send Zitao running for the bathroom.

He finds Kyungsoo in the kitchen after he's back from the bathroom, stirring the beginnings of a rice porridge, and a big mug of tea. The remnants of the rancid taste in his mouth make the words easier to say, in an attempt to brush it away with something far more bitter.

" _I_ wasn't there," he forces out when he's sat down and Kyungsoo's wrapped him up in a tight hug. "I only went twelve years ahead—"

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

"Sunshine," Zitao later greets when the door only opens a sliver, no light pouring out. "Sorry for making you get the door. Headache?" he asks as he squeezes into the welcome darkness of Jongin’s apartment.

"Migraine." Jongin looks lost until his bleary gaze catches sight of the hanbok. He knows better than to ask, but Zitao sees the worry creasing his eyebrows. "I’ll go back to bed."

Zitao watches him trudge down the hallway, fondness quelling all tears, and goes to raid the fridge.

"It’ll pass," he tells Jongin as he’s smoothing out the towel-wrapped ice pack over his head, tells him confidently, firm and heavy with knowledge. "Not only the migraine. It'll be okay. You’ll be okay."

**Author's Note:**

> (time travel here is conceptualised as having memories of the past and future and the ability to pull them up like a reality. time travellers can feel the presence of people they share a deep mutual connection with, and, with a little practise, tell how they're doing.)
> 
> thank you so much for giving this rarest of pairs a chance!! let me know what you think?


End file.
